Four Walls
by ZD2013
Summary: A snapshot at Ziva's experience when captured in Somali and a different look at how her rescue could have happened. Hint of rape. One shot. Complete Disclaimer- i don't own NCIS etc.


An intermittent drip was the first thing that Ziva heard. It was to her left she quickly determined and about ten metres away.. Rain perhaps? That explained the fresher tinge to the air. Fresher? Ha! The place still reeked of sweat and urine…both her own. Fresh air was such a foreign idea in the current climate. Ziva chuckled slowly to herself surprised that she retained the ability to so much as smile. The drip came again bringing her back to her previous thought of rain. It would be only the second time it rained since she had been here…how long that was she wasn't sure. Ziva breathed in deeply through her nose and mouth relishing the taste and scent of the salty rain. She longed to open her mouth and taste the water droplets and dampen her dry throat. Ziva shifted uncomfortably on the hard concrete surface and shivered slightly. She was not cold even without a blanket and with half shredded clothing. The room was stiflingly hot- her back almost being burned by the ground which had absorbed the heat of the dessert sun. She slowly opened her eyes and blinked to adjust her blurred gaze.

She could see wooden rafters a few metres above her. She knew these rafters well, every splinter and every nail- she had been looking at them for weeks after all. The drip came again. Slowly, Ziva inched her head to the left following the sound. The muscles in her neck resisted and pain shot through her causing her to clench her teeth tightly. How Tony would laugh at her if he saw her- unable to move an inch without being crippled by pain she thought bitterly. She tried to turn her head again and saw the cause of the sound. Water dripped from one of the many holes in the roof onto a puddle on the floor, another drop every few seconds. The rain had already passed, she sighed to herself. She must have missed the storm whilst she was unconscious. A pity, she thought, she enjoyed watching the rain as it came from the sky, through the holes in the ceiling until they landed with a splatter on her mud stained skin. It was the closest thing she got to a shower in this hell hole. It must have been quite a rainstorm she surmised as she recognised that her clothes where damp and sticking to her skin uncomfortably.

Ziva looked up to the ceiling once more, looking past the rafters to the snippets of sky outside. The sky was dark blue, late-evening she suspected. Soon the stars would come out, the moon too, her favourite time of day. Ziva could get lost in the stars. Sometimes, she could imagine that she was somewhere else, hundreds of miles away from here, back to normality, back to NCIS, and back to Tony. No! Ziva berated herself sternly. She couldn't think about that. She couldn't afford to allow herself to get lost in those thoughts, however comforting they may be. These thoughts were only then accompanied by an intense longing. She had to accept that she was never getting out of here. That she was never going to be found. That she was going to die here. Nobody would miss me anyway, she thought bitterly. Nobody even knows I am here.

The pain seemed to descend fairly rapidly. Of course, it was really there all the time. It seemed she was almost able to block it out at times however, so it became just a background ache. A nuisance. At times it would come on suddenly and forcefully and Ziva would struggle not to cry out or moan in pain. Her back appeared to be the focus of the assault this time. She wished she had the energy to roll over in order to free her back from the jagged hard ground but she could not move. She wished she had a mirror to look at herself but she already knew what she would see. She knew her back would be cut to the bone with deep cuts and lashes, her legs and arms purpled with bruises new and old. She knew she would look pale, sickly and deathly thin- she could feel her bony prominences digging into the ground. She knew what she would see if she studied her face- bedraggled hair and dead eyes. Another bolt of pain tore through her back and this time Ziva could not stop the muffled squeak that escaped her dry, cracked lips.

To distract herself, she thought again to the forbidden subject of NCIS and her family. She wondered what Gibbs was doing. Was he head slapping his team like usual or disobeying Vance? McGee was surely hacking through some hi-tec military server or some other technical thing she couldn't even pretend to understand. Abby was without a doubt listening to some awful music dancing around her lab as she urged major mass spec to hurry up and give her the vital clue to the case. Ducky and Palmer were probably in the lab right now cutting open another poor marine to determine the cause of his demise. No doubt Palmar was making inappropriate jokes and Ducky was recounting yet another tale. And Tony. Tony was no doubt cracking another joke or making a stupid film reference. What Ziva would give to be there now, to glare at Tony and insult his jokes or his dumb blonde girlfriends! She should have savoured it when she had the chance. Did they miss her at all?

The door ripped open with a bang startling Ziva out of her thoughts as a figure approached. Saleem. She usually would sense his loud sure footsteps half a minute before the door was open…clearly she had been too distracted. Quickly, Ziva shut her eyes and slowed her breathing hoping he still believed her to still be unconscious from the last round. She could hear his deep raspy breathing as he approached her. She could hear every footfall of his heavy army boots. She knew when he was standing right over her, so close that the toe of his boot could have touched her side. Her heart raced as she tried to stay quiet and look peaceful in sleep. She could hear here her breaths as they echoed betrayingly loud and frantic in her ears. There was silence for a few seconds. She could feel his eyes burning into her eyelids. Next second, she felt the air ripped out of her lungs and her eyes wrench open as he delivered a powerful blow with his boot to her abdomen. "Pretending to be asleep little Kalba?" Saleem sneered down at Ziva and spat in her face. Ziva stared defiantly back at him. She had been surprised initially at the depth of his knowledge of the Jewish language but soon realised his vocabulary was limited only to profanities and insults. This favourite of his, 'kalba' meaning bitch, was certainly not the worst she had heard leave his mouth. Ziva did not speak, did not moan and would not give him the satisfaction of crying out. Saleem turned his back to Ziva, walked over to and picked up the black leather case that had gone unnoticed on the ground by the door. Saleem must have placed it there after his arrival. He lifted it to a nearby wooden desk and with his back still to Ziva unclicked the locks and opened the case. Ziva lacked the energy or even the interest to turn her head to try and see what knew torture weapon Saleem had brought to try out on her. She had been exposed to many different sessions of torture using equipment designed to inflict maximum pain. Equipment that Ziva had never seen before and hoped she never would again.

Saleem appeared to have readied whatever was in the case as he approached her again and knelt down on her right hand side. She watched as he brought a needle into her eye line. She could see that the tip of the needle looked rusted and jagged. It had clearly been filed at the tip to create a blunted end. The needle looked surgical in origin and was at least 10cm long. It had no syringe attached so he did not intend to inject her with drugs she surmised. His sweaty palm rested on her right arm squeezing it forcefully. Almost clinically, he chose a spot to insert the needle in her arm a few inches above her elbow. He stabbed the needle into her arm and watched the blood pool out of the opposite end of the needle. The pain that coursed through Ziva was immense, but she had felt worse in these last few months. She gasped but was able to not cry out. He repeated his earlier actions again in a different spot causing Ziva to pull her arm away until the shackles that bound her resisted and dug into her wrist painfully. A moan slipped between her lips this time. Again and again he repeated the assault focusing the torture on her arms and legs. She wished that her legs where not bound with chains or she would have kicked him violently but all she could do was squirm in anguish. Time stopped having meaning. The assault continued. She could feel the warm blood coating her arms and legs and could smell the metallic tang in the air. She closed her eyes and thought of home. She tried to stay strong and proud like Gibbs would want her to be. She wanted to be the unbeatable ninja that Tony viewed her as or the strong independent woman McGee thought her to be. Yet, here and now, all she wanted to do was roll into a ball and weep bitterly or better yet, she wanted to die.

The attack stopped as suddenly as it commenced. Saleem left her side and moved back to the table. Out of the corner of her eye she could see as he rubbed the blood off the needle and inserted it back into its correct position in the case. He whipped back around to face her. He looked bored, she noted. This expression was not unusual. He appeared to have given up with extracting information from her many weeks ago. He knew she would rather die than tell him what he needed to know. He walked towards her and once again kicked her in the side raising another moan of pain from Ziva. "You are dirtying my floor with your blood little kalba," he sneered at her spitefully. "Well you could just stop making me bleed" she whispered, breaking her own rule of not speaking or communicating with him. She was surprised at how weak and broken her voice had sounded. She expected another kick in the side but he just smiled gleefully. "Ah, so she still talks. I was beginning to think you lost your tongue! Tell me, how are you liking your accommodation, are we feeding you well?" He laughed uproariously at his own joke. Ziva just stared at him blankly and tried to turn nonchalantly to stare at the opposite wall. Ziva's face burned as another kick was delivered. She could feel as her eyelid began to swell and her eye's water. He went quiet then knowing that their conversation, as short as it had been was over. Ziva thought she could hear a noise in the distance, a scuffling, out with the four walls that were her prison.

* * *

She was brought back to the present when she heard the distinct sound of the zip on his trousers being lowered and Ziva instinctively knew what horror was in store for her next. As he descended ontop of her, Ziva studied the stars that had come out at last; perhaps she had gone unconscious earlier without realising. As Saleem ripped down her trousers and pulled her top up, as he began to violate her, she considered the beauty of the stars, their bright elegance. The sound outside came again, louder this time. It was closer. A shout? Saleem had not noticed, too intent on gaining his own pleasure. Perhaps it was some of the men fighting again, a brawl over money no doubt. It had happened before. A bang was heard. This time Ziva was surprised Saleem didn't notice; it was loud and sounded distinctly like a gunshot. Ziva was shook from her thoughts as Saleem gripped her face pulling it to look in his eyes. His nails dug into the flesh of her neck and cheek no doubt drawing blood.

"Look at me kalba, look at me whilst I come." Saleem said. The stench of his breath was revolting and caused Ziva's eyes to water. Ziva tried to resist, tried to turn her head away. She would not look at him. She could look at him as he tortured her but she could not look at him whilst he did this. He was too strong, too powerful to resist so she closed her eyes. He became more forceful, almost choking her with the pressure on her neck. The noise came again. It was getting louder all the time and yet Saleem still did not notice. Was this a plan? A trick? Were more people coming to torture and cajole her? Saleem's dark eyes burned into hers. She felt bile rising at the back of the throat. Other than that, she felt numb. She felt distanced from the physical pain but she was not yet immune to the emotional pain that this was inflicting. She choked back a sob. She would cry freely when he left her until the next time. His pants grew louder as his thrusts grew less controlled. The door behind them was thrown open with an almighty bang causing Ziva's breath to hitch and eyes to dilate wider in terror. "NO!""" A tortured yell was released behind them. It was distinctly male and clearly American. Other than that Ziva did not know as her view of the man was blocked by Saleem. Saleem stiffened on top of her. Clearly this was not a part of his plans, Ziva surmised. The shock on his face hinted at his true disbelief at the intrusion.

The noise from the American man came again, the same agonising cry. The man barrelled into the room. Saleem, still in shock, did not even have time to turn around to accost the intruder. Ziva felt the weight of Saleem leave her as the intruder tackled Saleem ripping him from her. Darkness had descended around them rapidly, only the moon and the stars providing light. She could not see the intruder clearly, only shadows of the scuffle. The American man was in a frenzy throwing Saleem to the ground, punching and kicking him violently. Saleem was unable to resist the power and the ferocity of this man. He had not expected such an attack on himself and had no gun or weapon on him as he did not foresee needing to use it on his weakened captive. "You BASTARD, you fucking BASTARD" the American shouted venomously, each word punctured with another vicious kick to the man on the floor.

Ziva was at a loss to know what was going on. Who was this man? Why was he attacking Saleem? She wished she had some light so she could see his face! Ziva watched as another man entered the room and rushed over to the fighting American and pulled him away. "No, stop, don't! He is unconscious. You'll kill him!" said the man who had just entered. "So!" said the American. "He bloody deserves it, you should have seen…you should have seen what he was…doing when I came in" he said to the other brokenly." Through her puffy swollen eyelid, she could see the light from the stars shining off the silvery hair of the man who had entered last. He was older than the first and Ziva could see him look at the younger American with pity. "Go to her," the silver haired man said, "I've got this," he said pointing with obvious disgust to Saleem.

The younger American nodded and began to approach Ziva. She still could not make out his face. She could just make out his aghast face before he abruptly turned, fell to his knees and vomited behind him. Ziva heard a sigh from the silver haired man, but he did not approach or speak, just placed the cuffs on Saleem and watched from the shadows. The American turned again towards her. "Ziva," he whispered distraught. "It's me Ziva." He approached slowly until he was beside her. "God Ziva, what have they done to you. I'm so, so sorry," he whispered dejectedly. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and approached placing his hand on her arm. She flinched and withdrew her arm. The action caused a flash of hurt to appear in the American's eyes which was missed by Ziva as she stared defiantly at the rafters above her. He scurried closer again. "Ziva, it's me. It's Tony."

Ziva's eyes wrenched from the ceiling to look at the American. She saw it to immediately be true. She didn't know how she missed it before, that she didn't realise that this man was the man she was thinking about for months. "Tony?" she managed to croak out. "Oh my god, Ziva. Yes it's me he whispered back" a tear leaking from his eyes. He reached out a hand to touch her, saw naught but blood, cuts and bruises. He did not know where to touch her. He needed her touch, to know she was real, that she was alive but he did not want to hurt her. He placed his hand gently on her cheek and she instinctively turned towards the soft caress. "What took you so long," she ground out jokingly. Tony smiled reflexively and bent to kiss he forehead. "McGeek was driving and Ziva you know how slow he is. He's basically allergic to sixty miles an hour!" This received a small smile in response. A shiver ran through her startling Tony back into action. He signalled Gibbs to come pick the locks restraining her as he gently pulled her top back down and pulled her bloody and ripped trousers back up looking into her eyes the whole time to attempt to retain her modesty. She nodded weakly in thanks.

Once he had freed her wrists and ankles, Gibbs looked up to face her. No words were exchanged between them, none where needed. Their eyes said it all. Gibbs, like Tony kissed her gently on the forehead then stood to remove his jacket and wrap it gently around her shoulders. Tony and Gibbs together assisted Ziva into a sitting position. The pain of such as simple movement was horrific but she tried to stay strong for Tony. She had seen the tears in his eyes and did not want to be the cause of any more. Each looked up as they heard footsteps approaching. McGee entered. His relief was palpable when he saw Ziva flanked on either side by Tony and Gibbs. "Ziva!" Mc Gee breathed out. "I'm so glad you are alive," he said offering her a smile. He turned to Gibbs. "Areas clear boss, a few of our agents are injured. The rest are rounding up the remaining terrorists." Gibbs nodded slowly and turned to his team. "Let's go home" he said quietly. Tony and Gibbs stood slowly supporting Ziva between them. McGee moved to drag Saleem roughly from the floor. A glance was exchanged between Tony and Gibbs. Once Gibbs was sure that Tony could support Ziva, he gently let go to help McGee with Saleem. Warmth radiated off Tony as he whispered soothing words into Ziva's ear. She exhaled slowly as they cleared the door of her prison. She breathed in his comforting scent, a scent she loved so dearly. Reflexively she leaned into his side clutching him, needing to hold onto him and not let go. Here and now, surrounded by her three men, her family, she felt safe and most of all… loved.

**A/N- Just a quick one shot of a different way they could have found Ziva in Somali. Hope you liked. **


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